The Tattooist of Auschwitz

The Tattooist of Auschwitz is a focused retelling of the Holocaust, but its moral cry for humanity remains ever-pressing.

Shot with a bracing sobriety that does justice to the lives that were lost and torn apart by the Holocaust, it demonstrates respect for its subject by refusing to sugarcoat any aspect of its story, including the complicated feelings of its protagonist.

Tattooist of Auschwitz stands apart from the crowd, thanks in part to the quality of its performances, not just by documenting the barbarity of the Nazis but the sprigs of humanity that managed to bloom during the darkest of times.

The Tattooist Of Auschwitz shows that there can be a glimmer of hope in even the most horrific situations.

If "The Tattooist" doesn’t quite register as an Uplifting Testament to the Power of the Human Spirit — to its credit, I’d say — it’s an honorable project, honorably made, moving at times, horrifying at others, in broad strokes and small details.

Skillful, at times powerful, blend of fact with fiction — and not always clear which is which.

“The Tattooist of Auschwitz” puts the dichotomy of the human spirit on full display, showing the possibility of love and the unimaginable monstrosity that hatred can bring. Or at least it does if you can watch it all the way through.

It’s a sobering chronicle of a romance surrounded by death that’s, by virtue of its subject, more affecting than entertaining. It’s also slow-paced, suggesting the story may have been better told as a compact feature film rather than the drawn-out miniseries that has all episodes now streaming on Peacock.

Most moving, however, is footage of the real Lali Sokolov, now in his late eighties, who breaks down as he recalls the evils of Auschwitz. This comes at the end of the last episode, shortly before a new Barbra Streisand song, “Love Will Survive” (specifically created for the series), strikes up. It’s hugely powerful. What a shame this well-made but occasionally over-sentimental series doesn’t have more moments like it.

Overall, though, the miniseries does suffer from a few flaws, including an intrusive soundtrack (by Hans Zimmer). Most important of all, the story is weakened by miscasting. As the young Lali, Hauer-King digs hard but doesn’t fully evoke the complex inner conflict Lali feels as he must betray others to survive. And, to me at least, he looks nothing like the older Lali, well-played by Harvey Keitel, who manages to bring Lali’s shame to the fore.

The Peacock miniseries takes seriously the responsibility to bear witness. But the gravity of a noble mission can also become an albatross. In spite of the touching romance at its heart, The Tattooist of Auschwitz feels like a means of conveying an urgent message, rather than a story to get swept up in for its own sake.

For all its period detail and unflinching depiction of the Holocaust's horrors, though, "The Tattooist of Auschwitz" lumbers more than it inspires.

Yes, it’s a love story, but while love may conquer all, it can’t in this instance capture the horror of the conditions in which it flowered, much less rise above it.

Don’t avert your gaze, we are told, but in turning the worst act of suffering and murder ever perpetrated by humans against humans into yet another tale of survival, The Tattooist of Auschwitz adds little to an over-exploited chapter of our shared history.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz is well made, well acted, well intentioned, and grotesque.